


Hurt him today

by oceantears



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Fights, Hurt, Immortality, Killing, M/M, Mention of Killing, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-graphic Murder, OOC?, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Suicide, THE RAPE/NONCON AND UNDERAGE IS ONLY MENTIONED FOR A SEC, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wade Wilson Has Issues, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wade does not stay dead though, give them hugs, healing factor, mention of rape, relationships, this is not a healthy relationship, tw: mention of pedophilia, tw: mention of sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 03:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16077419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceantears/pseuds/oceantears
Summary: Wade hurts Peter.  It’s okay. Peter hurts Wade, too.In the end, they hurt each other.





	Hurt him today

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> English is not my first language, please tell me where I made mistakes.  
> Warning for mention of rape/sexual assault and pedophilia. It's not described at all but there's a short mention of it and if that triggers you, please don't read this.  
> Also the violence & character death warnings are here cause Wade hurts and kills himself, but it's not overly graphically depicted.  
> Please stay safe!  
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. :)

You open the door to the apartment you share with Wade and the smell of bloods hits you.  
When you reach the bedroom door you feel nauseated, and you are afraid of what you’re going to find.  
The door creaks as you open it and your breath hitches when you see him.  
He’s lying on the floor, a puddle of blood around him. His arm is a mess, the knife he has used for cutting lies next to him. You stare at the mess that once was his left arm and you think you might throw up.  
Instead you begin to scream.  
“What the fuck, Wade?”  
You rush to him, kneel down on the floor next to him, your eyes fixated on the bleeding, gaping arm. He opens his eyes slowly and your stomach turns as you see the flesh and muscles of his forearm slowly mending themselves right before you. 

“Hi, Baby Boy.” comes the cheery voice of your boyfriend, and you clench your eyes shut tight against the tears that burn in them.  
“Sorry”, grunts Wade, already pushing himself up, starting to rise. “I didn’t want you to see that. Just. . . Everything was too much. I thought that I’d take a break from the shooting myself for once and start with the knife again. Thought you’d come home later.”  
He’s standing now, looking at the blood on the floor, looking at you, kneeling next to it.  
“I’ll clean up later”, he says, unable to look you in the eyes.  
You think you might hear guilt in his voice. You can't be sure.  
Wade turns around and goes to the door, stopping at the doorway, turning once more.  
“I’m sorry, Baby Boy.” he whispers and by the way his voice nearly breaks at the end you can tell that this was hard for him to say. 

You nod, wordlessly and hear him leaving the room.  
When you hear the shower being turned on, you take the bloody knife he left on the floor and hide in the closet as well as possible, not bothering to clean it beforehand.  
Then you sink to your knees again, only a few metres away from the blood, bury your head in your hands and start sobbing.

\---------------------

You’re a year into the relationship when you first hit him.  
You can’t think straight, can’t hear him, can’t see anything but the red in front of your eyes and you barely register the sickening sound that comes when your fists collides with his collarbone.  
You are screaming at him but don’t understand the words you say.  
You can feel tears sliding down your face, can hear sobs coming from your mouth but you can’t stop screaming, can’t stop hurting him.  
You wish you could.

The next time you swing his hand at him, directly at the collarbone you broke mere minutes ago, he catches your fist, holds it.  
His grip hurts and you try to yank your arm away, but instead he only catches the other one.  
He mumbles softly into your ear, sounding tired and angry and _hurt._  
You hurt him.  
The realisation hits you suddenly and you stop screaming, your knees buckle and you would’ve fallen, had he not pulled you up against his chest.  
You’re sobbing loudly now, head pressed against his chest but even your desperate crying isn’t loud enough to drown out the noise of his broken collarbone mending itself beneath your head.

You feel a strong hand against your shoulder and you flinch. But it’s only Wade, Wade who strokes up and down your back slowly while mumbling soothing words in your ear, words you only now understand.  
“It’s okay, Baby Boy, it wasn’t your fault. I know it wasn’t your fault, what Skip did to you was wrong. He’s in prison now, he can’t touch you. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

You nod weakly and press your face against his chest, letting his words calm you down.  
When you finally pull back to look at him your tears have long since dried and his collarbone is whole again.  
“I am sorry Wade. I am so, so sorry.”

Wade says nothing. He just pulls you into another hug and when you feel tears falling on the top of your head, you don’t say anything.

\---------------------

When you wake up it’s because the door opens slowly.  
You check the clock on the bedside table; it’s half past one in the morning.  
Wade was supposed to come back at eleven.  
You sit up in bed, berating yourself for falling asleep at ten, too tired to wait for your boyfriend.  
Your boyfriend, who was supposed to come home hours ago.  
Your boyfriend, who’s standing in your bedroom, illuminated by the moonlight that falls through the small window, and who has dripping blood from his katanas.

 

“What happened?”  
You barely recognize your own voice, slightly scratchy from sleep, sounding detached from your body. From your mind.  
Wade takes off his suit slowly, letting the katanas fall on the floor. He changes into his pajamas mechanically, without saying a word.  
He slides into bed next to you, his mask covering his face, gloves still on his hands.

You try again.  
“Wade, what happened?”  
Now you can hear emotions in your voice, mostly worry, a bit of anger and panic.  
He still doesn’t answer you, and when you reach out to take his mask off, he flinches.  
You push your thumbs under the mask, trying to hide the shaking of your hands and failing.  
Your thoughts spin and your stomach clenches.  
He had promised. He had promised not to kill anyone ever again and you had thought it worked, had thought that he was doing well, doing better. You had obviously been wrong.  
When you finally get the mask off his head, you see tears on his face, glistening on his scars.

You take your hands away, arms lying stiffly on your side and in that moment not even your superhuman strength could have made them move towards Wade again.  
Wade opens his mouth to speak and his words feel like sandpaper on your skin.  
“He raped her”, he says, his voice monotone and detached. “I saw them through the window and he pinned her down. She couldn’t have been older than eight.”  
He shudders, his body curling up, knees drawn to his chest. Your arms are still lying on your sides, unmovable.  
He takes a breath and the sound is so, so loud in the quiet bedroom.  
“I killed him.” He says. “I had to.”

 

For a long time you two are silent, you staring at him, him staring right back at you. Neither of you moves.

“Is the girl safe?” you finally ask, voice barely audible.

Wade nods and you feel the knot in your stomach unclenching at least a little. Your finger twitches.

“Good.”, you say and close your eyes.

You can move your hand again and you clench it into a fist.  
Then you open it, slowly and inch it a bit closer to Wade who’s lying on his side, watching you. He looks lost.  
You move your hand a bit more and touch his. His fingers clench around yours, the leather of the glove rough against your sensitive skin.

You close your eyes and turn away from him, your hand not leaving his. The knot in your stomach that formed when you saw the blood on Wade’s suit is still there but it is a little smaller than it was in the beginning.

 

Wade turns around too. He screws his eyes shut and tries to ignore the feelings that burn in his chest, the tears that slide down his face.  
He feels your hand squeezing his and squeezes back.


End file.
